A New World
by aftersh0cks
Summary: In which Cosette and Eponine lead the revolution, Grantaire imagines himself singing "On My Own" in a theatre, and Enjolras only has eyes for the French Revolution. Crackfic, E/R.


A/N: This is pure unadulterated crackfic, written mostly because the idea of Grantaire singing On My Own was funny and then I thought about Enjolras having only eyes for France in that same way Marius only has eyes for Cosette. I am so, so sorry.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything in this story except for the odd role reversal.

* * *

June, 1832. In France a rebellion rises, led by two brave women: Cosette and Eponine.

Cosette stands in front of General Lamarque's house. Inside, he is ill. She loosens the black cravat around her neck. She wears a dress, specially tailored for a girl who refuses to conform, but at the same time, a girl who refuses to let sex sell her. "Where are the leaders of the land?" she shouts into the crowd. "Where are the swells who run this show?"

Eponine is the one who answers. "Only one man," she says, "and that's Lamarque! He speaks for the people here below."

"Lamarque is ill," says Cosette, "and fading fast. He won't last the week out—so they say."

"With all the anger in the land, how long before the judgement day?" Eponine shouts. "Before they cut the fat ones down to size?"

"Before the barricades arise?" yell both girls. Cosette raises a red flag. The flag of revolution.

The crowd is in an uproar. After a few seconds, a chant rises up: "Vive la France! Vive la France! Vive la France!"

In the crowd, two men stand. Enjolras and Grantaire. Grantaire shouts with the rest of them, and Enjolras has glee on his face, hanging onto every word the two girls say. Not because he likes the girls, but because of the idea of a French Republic. France, he thinks, is beautiful.

&.&.&.&

So Enjolras' love of France may be a little over-the-top, thinks Grantaire bitterly as he walks down the street with the man. It's a damn country, not a woman—or a man.

"Still plotting to change the world, then," Grantaire says, as Enjolras stops speaking. "I've not seen so much of you lately. Not in the Musain, not here, not anywhere. You're still pretending to be poor, aren't you—come on, I know you're rich."

Enjolras shrugs. "I don't want to be a bourgeois," he says. "I won't take a franc that I've not earned. Seems fairer to the poor."

"I like the way you talk, monsieur," says Grantaire.

"I like the way you tease, monsieur," Enjolras says, smiling at Grantaire.

"God knows what you love about France," Grantaire says, and he smiles, because he knows he'd stick by Enjolras, whatever he decides to do. "Filled with poor. Filled with starvation. Not enough bread to go around."

"That's why I love it. The Revolution needs to happen. The Revolution will make France even more beautiful than it is now." Enjolras stops. "Grantaire, I must go meet with Cosette and Eponine. There is still planning to be done before the inevitable rebellion."

He hurries off without looking back.

"Little he knows," says Grantaire, staring after the man. "Little he sees."

He takes a flask of brandy out from his pocket and sips from it. "If only he would tell me I can help. Grantaire, he knows his way around."

&.&.&.&

"Lamarque is dead!"

Enjolras turns to Grantaire, a mixture of sadness and excitement written in his face. Cosette is standing on a table, directing all these men around like she's the boss of everyone. Well, she is, and it is unheard of for a woman, but no one really complains.

"His death is the sign we await," she announces. "On his funeral day we will honor his name with the light of rebellion ablaze in our eyes! With the candle of grief, we will kindle our flame. On the tomb of Lamarque our barricade shall rise! The time is here and let us welcome it with courage and cheer! They will come when we call!"

Cheers arise from around the room. Lamarque is dead, but the rebellion is just beginning.

"France will be free!" Enjolras announces to Grantaire. "Something is over, but something else has scarcely begun. Grantaire, thank you so much for bringing me to Les Amis in the first place. I can never thank you enough." He clasps the other man's hands. "Thanks to you, I am one with the gods and Heaven is near. And we will have a world that is new, that is free."

_Every word that Enjolras says is a dagger in me,_ thinks Grantaire. _He has no eyes for women or men. Only France. Only the revolution. There's no one like him, anywhere. Anywhere he is, if he asked, I'd be his. _

"There is something that touches my life," Enjolras announces, letting go of Grantaire's hands, "waiting near."

_He's waiting here, _Grantaire thinks.

He says nothing.

&.&.&.&

After a drink, Grantaire is the last to head to the barricades of freedom, as Enjolras calls it. It has started to rain, and Grantaire's drunk. It's night. He's all alone.

He does the only thing that seems logical in his mind: he begins to sing softly.

"_On my own, pretending he's beside me,_" Grantaire improvs, and realizing he actually may be better at this than he thought he was, he continues, "_all alone, I walk with him till morning. Without him, I feel his arms around me, and when I lose my way I close my eyes…_"

Grantaire shuts his eyes, stumbling towards the Café Musain. He manages to run into a cow but doesn't stop singing, even as he gets up. "_…and he has found me._"

He opens his eyes. The girl with the cow is giving him an odd look. Grantaire smiles at her and takes a wobbly step towards where he knows he has to go. "_In the rain, the pavement shines like silver,_" he sings, and then bends down, wondering if the rain is really silver. It doesn't seem to be, so he sings, "_all the lights are misty in the river_." It makes a little more sense than rain being silver. Rain is clear. Or blue. Does rain even have a color?

"_In the darkness, the trees are full of starlight, and all I see is him and me forever and forever,_" he belts out. Grantaire could be in a theatre. He could perform at the Opera. "_And I know that there can't be a chance, that I'm talking to myself and not to him. And although I know that he loves France, still I say, there's a way for us._"

He can see the Musain now. He steps into the wide street, imagining he's in front of an audience of hundreds at the theatre. "_I love him, when the night is over, he is gone, the river's just a river! Without him, the world around me changes, the trees are bare and everywhere, the streets are full of strangers!_" As he sings this line, one of the students walks by, looking as if he wants to ask Grantaire something, but he ends up merely shaking his head and passing Grantaire.

"_I love him, but every day I'm learning, all my life, I've only been pretending!_" Grantaire takes another sip out of his nearly-empty flask. "_Without me, his world will go on turning, a free world full of happiness that we have never known!_"

He drains the flask, singing, "_I love him, but only on my own,_" to himself, and then tries to drink more from the empty flask.

Grantaire heads into the Musain and asks to fill the glass with absinthe or brandy. He needs it if he wants to become a performer at the theatre.

&.&.&.&

The battle itself is disgustingly short-lived. Cosette and Eponine are two of the last to fall. Grantaire has passed out drunk where the soldiers cannot find him and Enjolras is making a last stand outside the wine shop. It rains. It has been raining for a few days.

Grantaire comes out. He joins Enjolras. The soldiers shoot, but Enjolras and Grantaire still live, though the wounds will be fatal. The soldiers leave soon after, because everyone alive in the room knows that their time is short.

"Grantaire," Enjolras struggles to say, "are you…"

"Don't fret, Monsieur Enjolras," Grantaire says. He manages to turn his battered and wounded body towards Enjolras with much effort. "I don't feel any pain. A little fall of rain can hardly hurt me." With effort, Grantaire smiles, and Enjolras shifts himself so that they're closer together.

"You're here," Grantaire says. "That's all I need to know."

"You will keep me safe," Enjolras says, clasping his hands.

"And you will keep me close."

"And rain will make the flowers…"

Neither of them complete their sentences.

&.&.&.&

In the afterlife they find out that France is a republic, or at least, it will be in sixteen years. Enjolras is so excited he kisses Grantaire on the mouth.


End file.
